A Wolf's Regret
by Luke Danger
Summary: War was what defined Apollyon, but what made her a monster in war was an understanding of what surrounded it. After a chance encounter on the way to a war meeting, the Blackstone Legion's warmaster is given cause to look back at her life and what she had passed over. A character piece for both Apollyon and Holden Cross.


Being the master of the Blackstone Legion had countless responsibilities, but such was the price of having power at your disposal.

Still, it was not all-consuming, and Apollyon still had some time to herself, but eventually duty would call again. Making her way back towards the war room, book in hand given where she was going, Apollyon strode through the halls of the Blackstone Fortress. Though somewhat dark by the standards of most castles, it was more a result of how deep the fortress went. Most fortresses rarely went more than one or two rooms deep without sunlight, not so for this keep.

But a rustle behind a nearby door caused her to stop, moving her free hand towards the hilt of her longsword as she looked towards the storeroom door she had passed by. The corridor was usually deserted, and she mostly used it because it was the quicker route compared to the better lit corridors above. Still, it was a perfect place for an assassin to try their luck, and there had been no shortage of them.

Carefully placing the text on the ground, Apollyon had her sword at the ready as she gently edged the door open…

… only to see two of her knights within, arms around each other. Both were surprised as the door opened, hands falling to the rondel daggers at their belts before they realized who had interrupted.

"Master!" one of the two started, eyes wide as he released his grip. "I didn't- we…"

Apollyon simply glanced between the two, tilting her head. "Strange quarters to pursue romance," she remarked as the other knight reached towards the back of her neck.

"We didn't think there would be anyone," she offered.

"Of course." Apollyon sheathed her blade. "Carry on then."

"Right… yes, master," the first knight started as he glanced towards his lover, shrugging as Apollyon closed the door behind them and picked the book back up.

 _Ah, young love,_ she mused as she continued onwards. Those two were good knights, young but already having proven themselves in battle. Such an affair was theirs to pursue, but of course they would keep it quiet. Their parents certainly would not approve, having other prospects in mind for both of them. Not that she cared about the dynastic intrigues of the highborn, and should they try to force it upon them against their will, they would learn the hard way that the Blackstone Legion's knights would fight back.

Still, it stirred something. A reminder of what she had missed, perhaps? Every time winter began to fade and spring came, romance seemed to blossom. The chill of winter gave way to renewal. Romance entered the air, particularly amongst the youngest of their ranks. Perhaps it was simply the cold making its way out, or perhaps there was something even more base in spring than that?

And with it often came a question for the elder warrior: perhaps she could have found another form of happiness than the long and somewhat bitter brew that her life had? Much as she found joy in winning one battle after another against both the Warborn and her own people's love of intrigue, she still sometimes wondered. In loneliness, her mind would drift to what could have been.

After all, how many knights fought for the sake of love - beyond that of poetry and legend, but just to return to the loving embrace of their spouse? How many Warborn sagas sung of heroes fighting for love, of the most dangerous game for young men to pursue? And the Samurai - for all their restraint, she knew that love remained an enthralling tale that their actors would display. It was all there even in the Blackstone Legion: their first leader had been murdered because he sought to keep warriors from love by way of legionary vow.

Yet as she reached the war room, returning the book to Mulciber as it was his text on the styles of fortification - Warborn, Chosen, and Legion alike - that thought troubled Apollyon further. It remained a subtle thorn as they laid out the final plans for their great campaign to crush the Warborn in Ashfeld once and for all.

It was the plan they had been refining all winter long - Holden Cross would lead a smaller half of their forces south to deal with a traitor and relieve Harrowgate, while the rest would continue the war in northern Ashfeld. This would be their chance as the Warborn had their focus south towards this prepared adventure.

Yet as the meeting finished, it left only two in the war room as most left to prepare for their part in the plan. Herself, and Holden Cross.

"You seem troubled," Apollyon remarked as she saw the Lawbringer keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the piece representing Westhold Castle on the map.

"Daubeny is a disgrace, but he is one deserter," the Lawbringer answered as he shook his head. "We can deal with him at a later date. Westhold is useless to us until we secure Harrowgate. Even then, it is of no value to our campaign."

"Perhaps, but we both know our people's intrigue. Unpunished, he represents a sign of weakness in the moment of our triumph. Or worse, he could throw his sword into the fray when we are unprepared. Better to crush him now, than allow him to grow."

Cross snorted, but said nothing. It was his own argument many times about budding threats turned against him. "So be it, but Harrowgate will suffer for this."

"The Iron Legion are expendable. If there are wolves among them, they will hold until you arrive. If not, then you will crush this horde and scatter a generation of Viking strength."

"We'll see."

The room remained silent, and the question from before nagged her again. She was not the only one in their leadership with the matter either.

"Have you ever regretting your choice?" she asked.

The Lawbringer frowned as he looked up at her, resting a hand on his helmet on the table. "Regret what?"

"Not marrying."

Cross chuckled. "If you ask most, a Lawbringer's wife is his duty - with all the nagging it comes with."

It was rare for her to laugh outright, rarer still for Cross to be the one to cause it, but that time? His retort had the perfect wit for the situation.

But as it subsided, the Lawbringer had narrowed his eyes. "What brought this about, master? We both know you are not the kind to dwell on sentiment."

"I encountered two of our youngest knights in one of the storerooms on the way," she explained as she rested a hand on the table. "Their mutual love was a pleasant surprise, compared to what I expected to face within."

"Then let me ask you - do you ever regret letting your youth pass by?"

Well… did she?

It was not that she had never found companionship - it was more that she never chose to go all the way. Courtly romance was a cover of their civilized world to allow what was restrained to be safely released, but when she had dabbled, she had kept to that. If nothing else, it meant she had nothing to worry of as she looked to enact an age of wolves.

"Love and war are intertwined in ways we never understand," she finally admitted. "It drives warriors to great heights thought impossible until they happened. Yet it can also distract them, make them forget the call to arms. I chose not to be distracted."

Cross nodded. "My brother calls it weird, but I never felt that allure…" he stopped. "No, I felt it, but only the shallow surface. Never the truer desire to settle down. My duties would leave me a poor father, and what kind of man starts something so important knowing he cannot see it through?"

The room fell silent for a few moments until Apollyon finally decided on a straighter answer. "I sometimes wonder what could have been, but I know what I must do. Perhaps it may have made my years better, but it is too late to reconsider."

"And domestic life is not suited for everyone." The Lawbringer picked his helmet up from the table. "Regardless, I need to summon my knights to the field, and send Ademar to persuade some of our more reluctant recruits."

"Of course."

Cross dipped his head to show due respect, then strode out of the war room, leaving her alone to think. This was it - the campaign where the Blackstone Legion would take primacy in Ashfeld. Where she could work from to finally achieve her aim - to unleash the wolves upon the world. Simply holding this primacy would work well enough for the knights to the south and west as the Iron Commanders had just shattered the status quo in an irreversible way. The next task would be the Vikings and Samurai.

Which now made her wonder… for what would those wolves fight for once her lesson took hold? She saw the lessons in war without context, but war was all about the context that started it and kept it going. Would they fight to be able to return home, or would they soon find their comfort in the arms of their fellow fighters? And with that, would there be future generations of wolves, or would the war claim them too soon?

 _My parents were sheep,_ she reminded herself. Cowering before their lord, only lamenting haplessly when abandoned - she had been well to be rid of them in a way that taught her that foolishness. And, for once, the past that she sought to forget was helpful: it reassured her that no matter the wars, there would be those who could take up the way of the warrior to continue the coming age.

Now all she had to do was ensure that it came.

The wars would come. Friendships would form in them, a love that only comradery could give showing itself as firmer than anything made in peace. Yet many of those would be severed, brought to cruel ends in war's ruthless arithmetic. Apollyon had passed her chance at love, her kin all lay slaughtered at Warborn hands, and she was often distant to platonic friendship. But she understood firmly that love, in all its forms, had a role in war. She understood what it could drive wolves to do when they faced adversity.

It could drive them to madness that costs a battle, or a righteous fury that won it. It could break them as their comrades die around them, or it could make them stand and fight with a fury that would make a lifetime of preparation flee. And it could drive wars to their start, and more rarely bring them to a close.

"All is fair in love and war," Apollyon remarked to herself as she was alone in the war room, smiling. Yes, all was fair… but to be fair, the world had to understand the wisdom in war. Only then would they truly understand what love they had, and whether they were worthy of it by willingness to fight for it.

XXXXXXX

 **Author's Note:** _A short one-shot I wrote after wondering what Apollyon's thoughts on love are. I may expand this with a few more one-shots of the like (the Raider reflecting on Siv comes to mind), but for now, Apollyon's thoughts._

 _For those who follow my other For Honor story, "Honor's Trial", this is loosely of the same continuity._


End file.
